


here comes the rush before we touch (come a little closer)

by thegraystreaks



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: F/M, alternate get together, dumbasses in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-16
Updated: 2020-09-16
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:07:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26498380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegraystreaks/pseuds/thegraystreaks
Summary: “Annabeth glared at me. You are the single most annoying person I’ve ever met!” And she stormed out of the room.I stared at the doorway. I felt like hitting something. “So much for being the bravest friend she’s ever had.”------“Can we talk?”She wheels to face him, thunder in her eyes. For a moment, he’s scared he’ll need to pull out Riptide. She turns to the dummy one last time and stabs it straight through the heart. “You wanna talk? Then go ahead.”
Relationships: Annabeth Chase/Percy Jackson
Comments: 10
Kudos: 168





	here comes the rush before we touch (come a little closer)

**Author's Note:**

> got a prompt on tumblr (@thegraystreaks) for an alternate way for percy and annabeth to get together and this happened!!! it takes place in BOTL right after percy gets back from Ogygia and annabeth storms off from the Big House.
> 
> title is from closer by tegan and sara because i'm a disaster bi through and through. will i ever come up with a fic title that's not formatted (like this)? stay tuned to find out

_“Annabeth glared at me. You are the single most annoying person I’ve ever met!” And she stormed out of the room._

_I stared at the doorway. I felt like hitting something. “So much for being the bravest friend she’s ever had.”_

\----

He finds Annabeth in the arena. It’s empty save for her — everyone knows by now that sparring with her while she’s like this never leads to anything good. So she’s taking on a dummy, her anger apparent in the rigid lines of her body, fury in the force behind her blows. She rolls and kicks, dodging imaginary attacks, and Percy could swear that the air is thick, charged, like the feeling before a thunderstorm. Which is stupid — it’s camp, and the magical borders keep the sky cloudless as always. 

As he approaches, the only acknowledgement of his presence is her intensified rage, the way her blade slashes and hacks with renewed vigor. They’re gonna need to replace that dummy, he thinks.

“Can we talk?”

She wheels to face him, thunder in her eyes. For a moment, he’s scared he’ll need to pull out Riptide. She turns to the dummy one last time and stabs it straight through the heart. “You wanna talk? Then go ahead.”

He swallows nervously. Now that he’s got her attention, he doesn’t quite know where to start. His mind flashes to last winter, and how distraught he was when she had been kidnapped. How he’d have done anything to get her back. How he just _knew_ that she couldn’t be dead. He reaches out hesitantly, but pulls his arm back when he glances at the hilt of the blade, still sticking out of the dummy. 

“I was thinking about how upset I was last winter, when you were kidnapped. That, um — well, ‘sucked’ doesn’t really cover it. That was awful. I really am sorry that I worried you.”

Something shifts in her eyes, and he can see the hurt dripping through the cracks of her anger. “You couldn’t send an Iris Message? I thought you were _dead_ , Percy.”

He scratches the back of his neck. “Drachmas were a bit hard to come by on the island.”

“Ha,” she laughs drily. She pauses to wipe at the sweat on her brow. “What was she like?” The words drip with contempt.

“I don’t — who?”

“Don’t play dumb,” she scoffs. “Calypso. What was she like?”

Air rushes out of Percy’s lungs. He didn’t know what he was expecting, but it wasn’t that. Chiron was right, then. She had figured out where he’d been. 

“Does it matter?”

“Well, you spent two full weeks there, so I can’t imagine she looks like the ancient hag she is. How old is she again? Two-thousand? Or is it three?”

“Annabeth—”

“Two weeks, Percy!” she cries.

“I’m sorry, okay? Time was weird there!” 

“Oh, _time was weird_ , that’s your excuse?”

“Yeah, that’s my excuse!” he shoots back. “And I wasn’t just laying on a beach being fed grapes or something, I was recovering! From being blown up!”

That seems to drain some of the fight from her. She looks away, and her voice shrinks down: “I’m sorry you were hurt. I—I hate seeing you hurt.” 

In the silence that follows, he thinks inexplicably of Aphrodite coming to visit him last winter, the limo so out of place in the desert. The way that she had appeared, if only for a second, like the girl in front of him. How she had promised she wouldn’t let his love life be “easy and boring”. Gods, why couldn’t it be? The rest of his life is crazy enough. 

He had hoped, briefly, that Aphrodite might’ve forgotten about her promise when they’d returned to Olympus. He remembers a slow, sad song, and his hands on Annabeth’s waist as they had swayed. How it had felt like the pieces were maybe finally starting to fall into place. The memory seems worlds away.

“Annabeth, listen. I’m sorry I was gone so long. But I didn’t choose to be sent there. And—and I came back.”

“Duh, Percy,” she rolls her eyes. “That’s her curse.”

“Okay, you’re right.” She turns away. He reaches out, more confident now, and takes hold of her arm. “But curse or not, I _chose_ to come back.”

She pulls her arm out of his grip. “Yeah, so that you could tell me I have to bring some _mortal girl_ to lead _my_ quest!”

“What does Rachel have to do with this?”

“Are you fucking serious?” she shouts. He can see the walls building back up, the storm returning in her eyes. She whips around and yanks her dagger out of the sparring dummy, kicking up dirt as she begins to stalk away.

This was not how he wanted this to go, not his intent when he came to find her. Of all the ways returning to camp might’ve gone, he had never imagined it like this. He tries to reconcile the girl that kissed him in the mountain with this one, who can’t go more than a minute without yelling at him, that won’t stop running off. Why is this so complicated? She kissed him, right? Isn’t that supposed to be it? The happy ending? If movies told him anything, it was that the kiss means you get the girl. It shouldn’t be this hard. _It wouldn’t be_ , he thinks bitterly, _if she would quit storming off_.

“Gods, would you stop running away when we’re talking?” he shouts after her. “Would it kill you to stick around and listen to me?”

He’s taken aback when she actually turns around, arms crossed and foot tapping. “Well?” 

Percy blinks. He hadn’t thought this far ahead. Shit, what is he trying to say? “You know, Calypso offered me immortality. I could’ve escaped the prophecy, I could’ve lived in paradise forever—”

That probably wasn’t what he should’ve led with. “If you want me to ‘stick around and listen’, you’re off to a terrible start,” she seethes.

He steamrolls on anyway: “—but I _didn’t_ , I didn’t take her offer, because — well, because of Grover and Tyson, and the quest isn’t over yet, but also because — ” he stops. He’s rambling. _Focus_. How can he say this? “Did you really kiss me back there, or did I make that up in my head?” 

She freezes. Silence stretches out between them, and Percy kind of wants the ground to swallow him whole. But it’s out there, now. Might as well go all in. “I really hope you did, because I’m gonna feel insanely stupid if it was just some volcanic-explosion-induced fever dream.” 

Slowly, she unfreezes. Nods. “Uh. Yeah, I did.”

He takes a step closer. “I don’t care about ‘some mortal girl’. At least, not the way I care about….about you.” He can feel the blood rushing in his ears, can feel his heart beating painfully fast. She’s still just standing there, staring and staring but not moving. She’s not saying anything, _why isn’t she saying anything?_

“Gods, can you throw me a bone, Annabeth? I feel like I’m dying here—”

He’s cut off when she lunges forward and kisses him. It’s like their first kiss in two ways: it’s over before he can even react, and it leaves him staring, dumbfounded. How is it that she’s caught him off-guard with this not once, but twice now?

“Think you’ll remember that one was real?” she asks, still only inches from his face. Her breath smells of strawberries, and her eyes are puffy from his almost-funeral, but the storm in them begins to clear. 

He laughs, bright and full. “You should probably kiss me one more time, just to be safe.”

“Hmm,” she considers, arms coming up around his neck. “Should I count down so that you can be ready this time?”

He groans. “You are so not making this easy.”

“I am never, ever going to make things easy for you, Seaweed Brain. Get used to it.”

“Gods, you’re insufferable. It shouldn’t be this cute.”

“Three, two—”

He’s on her before she reaches one, one hand pulling her closer at the waist and the other finding her cheek. When their lips meet, it feels like everything he’s been waiting for. Like the clouds parting, like sunshine, like warmth, like happiness.

It may not be their first kiss, but it’s their best yet.


End file.
